Groceries
by carnifax
Summary: Harvey/Mike. Just a shopping trip. "Will you at least let me push the cart?"


**Groceries**

By carnifax (originally posted to tumblr)  
><em>Suits<em>  
>HarveyMike  
>Rated T<br>Friendship | Romance  
><em>Just a shopping trip. "Will you at least let me push the cart?"<em>

'Suitermarket' might become a whole 'verse pretty soon…

* * *

><p>"Will you at <em>least<em> let me push the cart?"

"No." Harvey swerved the shopping cart out of Mike's reach and walked a little faster, leading the way to a different aisle. "Running into me once was enough. You got dust on the back of this suit."

"Harvey, c'mon, I won't do it again—"

"No."

Mike fell a few steps back as they made a U-turn into the cereal aisle. "I told you, it was an accident! — Ooh, fruit loops!"

Harvey stopped the cart abruptly, turning in time to smack Mike's hand away before his fingers reached the gigantic box of processed sugar. "You already have plenty of those at your apartment. You don't need more. And no more ramen, either," he sighed, beginning to push the cart again. "Or gatorade, for that matter. You need to start eating like a lawyer, not a college stoner."

"College kids are too poor for that much gatorade," Mike argued under his breath, but Harvey shook his head.

"My point is," Harvey said, rounding the end of the aisle and stopping in front of a wall of pasta, "you need to take care of yourself. You want to live in a tiny apartment? Fine. You want to buy cheap suits? Whatever. But I'm not going to let you starve on a diet of salt and sugar. Spaghetti, linguine, penne, farfalle or rotini?"

Mike stared at him, puzzled by the immediate change of topic, and then stared at the wall of boxes of uncooked pasta. "How about…. uh. They actually all taste the same to me."

Harvey rolled his eyes.

"Fine — the bowties? Those ones?"

Harvey plucked that box off the wall. "Farfalle. We'll get you some spaghetti and penne too."

"I don't see the point of all this," Mike said as soon as they started walking again, with Harvey checking a list he had apparently made of necessary foods. "You can lead a horse to water but you can't make it drink, right? I don't know how to cook. You can lead me to all the fancy ingredients in the world, like those mushrooms you were discussing with Rachel yesterday that I can't even pronounce correctly, but—"

"Look, Mike," Harvey sighed, leaning one elbow on the cart's handhold and facing Mike. "You have that memory of yours, don't you?"

Mike shrugged one shoulder, wary.

"You just have to read a recipe once, and it'll be in your head. Once you make it a few times, you'll figure out what works with it and what doesn't. You can be a walking cookbook."

Mike snorted. "Useful skill."

"I'm serious." Harvey turned toward the cart again. "I need you at the top of your game. You don't have to be Emeril, but you need more than fruit loops to be healthy. I'll take you grocery shopping every week if I have to."

That surprised Mike. Harvey was a man who valued his time, and taking an hour or so each week just to help his associate with domestic chores seemed almost… caring.

"You're worried about me," Mike realized, aloud.

Harvey turned down the next aisle. "You're an investment. And since you obviously can't manage yourself, it's my job to do it."

"It's not like I'm gonna _starve_ without your supervision—"

"Are you sure about that?" Harvey was facing the shelves, picking out who-knows-what, but his tone was tense. "Because your suits have been looking too big on you lately, and kid, you weren't that big to begin with." He paused; then, very quickly: "Ill-fitted suits always look sloppy and that's something I can't afford. I figured you'd rather buy new food than a new set of suits." Harvey threw a jar of something in the cart and pinned his eyes on Mike. There was a seriousness there that made Mike uneasy. "So you're going to start eating like a normal human being, and we're not going to talk about this any further. Got it?"

Mike only nodded.

They didn't speak for the rest of the trip, at least until the woman at the checkout counter sweetly told them that they made a cute couple.

"Oh, we're not—" Mike told her, tripping over his words and turning slightly pink. "He's, uh, he's my boss, he's just sort of…. well—"

Meanwhile, Harvey was silent, loading the bagged groceries back into the cart so they could bring them out to the company car (which he had absurdly insisted on using); but when Harvey did spare a glance at his associate, Mike swore he saw the tiniest hint of a smile in his boss' eyes.

On the drive back to Mike's place, still sitting in thick silence, Mike started to consider asking Harvey himself for cooking lessons. He was sure Harvey wouldn't say no, since it was, after all, necessary to protect an 'investment.'


End file.
